


Rhinestone Eyes

by softkiri



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal, Romance, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softkiri/pseuds/softkiri
Summary: The last thing that Zak wanted to do this summer was oversee the selling of his family's forgotten estate, tucked in the corner of a sleepy town and hidden on the hilltop past acres of untended land. The house was still in ways that still things were not, and the silence of the estate pounded loud in his head.His family insisted that he was the perfect person to do this. He was more careful than his sister, they said. He wouldn’t open doors that refused to open, and he would ignore the whispers that taunted him while he tried to sleep. That's what they said at least, that’s what they believed.So Zak would ignore the way the way lights turned on without him doing doing so, he would ignore the shadows lurking along the walls, and he would definitely ignore the white eyed man who sat at the piano each night, humming along to a sad song as his fingers echoed against the piano keys, a forgotten melody long lost to time.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 16
Kudos: 144





	1. House of the Rising Sun

The manor creaked and groaned with every waking day. Each sunrise brought a new noise, whether it be the setting of old wood, or a squeaky hinge echoing down an empty corridor. The house was still in ways that still things were not, and if one were to listen hard enough, you could almost hear voices humming underneath the floorboards- unfortunate souls stuck in between the two realms.

The upper levels were large and narrow, with steep stairs pinwheeling up to the highest story of the manor. At the very top lay the crevasse of where a large bell used to sit, the same bell that rang every night when the sun set. Clockwork. Still as the night would ever be.

And when night fell mildew formed on the broken greenhouse outside, a remnant of what life used to be. The greenhouse, untouched for decades, lay barren in a wasteland of weeds and dead plants. Though, through the foliage a single cornflower bloomed in the middle of the broken glass house. Tall and bright and blue in the sea of washed out brown. The flower had been around as long as Zak could remember, his grandmother always told him to not touch it, voice both stern and wavering. Cornflowers weren’t native to these parts of the country after all, and under the breath of moonlight the petals glowed a bit _too_ bright.

The manor was still in ways that still things were not, and that’s the way it had always been.

Zak turned the large skeleton key, engraved with an emblem he had seen many times before. A hollow click echoed through the frame of the entrance, and as he pushed the large doors open, a waft of stale air tickled his nose. 

Standing in the middle of the archway, he pulled his bag higher over his shoulder, his other suitcase beside his feet. The squeak of the large doors echoed long through the corridor, mid afternoon sunlight highlighting dust particles floating through the air.

“Are you sure you want to do this,” his sister whispered from behind him, voice low and eyes wide. She fidgeted with one of his suitcases, craning her head to look into the empty mansion.

“Do I really have a choice?” Zak replied, quirking an eyebrow over his shoulder. “It’s fine, it’ll just be like old times.”

“I’ll call,” she added, dropping the suitcase beside his feet. “I’m sure they’ll sell it in no time.”

“Yeah,” Zak nodded, turning to look back into the corridor. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow flicker in the hallway. A trick of the light, most likely. “I’m sure they will.”

* * *

Settling into the manor wasn’t as hard as he expected it to be. When he was younger, he visited often with his sister, running up and down and hallways, finding hidden doors and passageways and burrowing in them when it came time to sleep. The house was anything but unfamiliar, but still a fog in his memory with bits and pieces left to put together. It had always been still, but without the laughs of his sister and the scolding of his grandparents it had washed into an unwavering quiet. So he kept busy. 

He wandered through the main level, hand trailing against the wall. Paintings stared down at him as he walked, eyes wide and following. Zak stilled as a shadow flew down the opposite wall, fading into the damp wood. He shook his head, and kept his pace forward, wondering if anyone would even bother buying the house.

It wasn’t until the next day when the staff began to arrive, breaking some of the silence that he had been plunged into. He nursed a coffee as he welcomed them in, nodding to the handful of maids and butlers and they parted into the building. Already thrown into their tasks deep into the manor, he soon found himself alone again.

“Would you like something to eat, Sir?” One of the butlers asked, tapping lightly against his bedroom door. Against his black and blue attire stood his family's crest embroidered in the middle of his chest. Oh how much Zak hated tradition.

“I’m alright,” Zak spoke, looking over the screen of his laptop. “Also, you don’t have to call me sir.”

“Yessir.” The butler nodded, closing the door behind him.

Zak sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. This was going to be a long summer.

Before he knew it, evening fell and the house began to set again. He had spoken to his parents briefly, going over the open house and the expectations they had for it. Zak was only here to oversee everything, the rest was being left to the staff. He didn’t understand why it was so crucial that he watch over the whole thing, but he wouldn’t dare question them.

Trudging down the spiral stairs, he pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands, the night air slightly nipping his skin. Lost in his thoughts, internally cussing out how many stairs were in the goddamn manor, he almost didn’t realize the house wasn’t silent tonight. 

Ghastly music wafted through the building, echoing and vibrating softly off the empty walls. He blinked, stuttering in his step. That was new.

He followed the music further down the stairs to the main level, the soft strum of piano keys growing louder with each step he took. Turning a corner, he walked down a hallway, peering into an open door on his left.

In the middle of the living room a man sat a grand piano, fingers dancing delicately over the keys. He swayed lightly as he played, moving with the music. 

Zak watched from the archway, arms crossed against his chest in amusement. A smile dangled on his lips, as he watched one of his presumed staff begin the crescendo of the song. The room vibrated with music, moonlight streaming through the large windows onto the base of the piano.

With each note he felt his smile grow larger, leaning against the frame of the door. This was the most alive the house had been since he arrived. He missed this.

As the man slowed and the song tapered off to an airy tune, Zak walked forwards.

“Wow,” he started, taking a seat on the edge of the bench, “that was really good, dude.”

The man continued the playing, eyes set forwards. From where Zak sat he could see the outline of his nose from under his hood, and the moonlight flickering strangely against the whites of his eyes. Zak raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response that he would not come to get. He shrugged, averting his eyes to look around the room. 

“You’re pretty talented, why are you here?” He hummed, placing his hands between his knees, this room had grown much colder than the others. “Like- working for my family I mean. You shouldn’t waste talent like that, honestly.”

A beat of silence.

Zak turned to the man, tilting his head quizzically. The man's fingers hovered over the ivory keys, his gaze still stuck forwards.

“What's your name?” Zak continued, bringing a knee up to his chest. It was getting pretty cold in the living room, and his teeth were beginning to chatter. 

The man finally turned to face him, an unreadable look dawned across his face. Zak blinked, waiting, while the other man struggled for words. “You can see me?”

“What? Of course I can see...” Zak trailed off, his breath forming a cloud in front of his face as he stared at the man with bright white eyes.

Oh.

They stilled, both of them wide eyed and searching. The man in front of him looked as fearful as Zak felt, and before Zak could process what was happening a thud jolted him out of his daze.

“Sir?” One of his staff spoke in the doorway, peeking her head inside. “Supper is ready, did you want to eat in here?”

Zak stuttered, a cold sweat washing over his body as he turned to face the now empty seat beside him. At the corner of his eye he saw a shadow dance in his vision, and the muted hum of a piano key echoing in the distance. He quickly pushed himself off of the bench, turning to face the woman in front of him. 

“No- no. I’ll come to the dining hall.”


	2. To Be So Lonely

“Thank you for giving me a tour around. I haven’t been down here since I was a little girl, not much has changed since then.”

Zak hummed, standing on the porch with his hands shoved into his pockets. The afternoon sun began to set on the land. It illuminated the giant gargoyle statues at the entrance and casted large shadows along the dirt path. “Yeah,” he shrugged, “not much has really changed at all.”

The lady ducked her head and laughed, wrinkles lining her face. In her hands she held a wicker basket of fruits and bread. She said it was one last token to his family from theirs, something about old neighbours giving one last thanks. “Your grandparents were quite the eccentric pair.” She spoke wistfully, eyes wandering off to the distance. “One of my first memories was coming over for dinner with my parents and getting lost in the corn fields. When I finally found my way out my mother was crying and your grandfather was laughing. He told me that the fields were playing with me, and if they really wanted me gone I would be.”

Zak barked out a laugh at that, “sounds like him.”

The woman chuckled, looking up fondly at the manor. Smiling, she watched as the summer sun began to set behind the building. Zak tapped his foot impatiently, the faux smile on his face losing traction with every waking second. The gift was nice, and so was she, but his social battery was seriously losing stamina right now. Half of his staff had set out for the evening, and with the night breaking came the promise that they would be back soon. The one time he wanted to be alone, he wasn’t, How ironic was that? 

A chill wafted through the air, and she turned to look back at him with something different set in her eyes. “Say, this is quite the strange question to ask…” She started, fidgeting with a straw reed on the handle of the basket. “But, the house is so…” She sighed, shaking her head. Zak raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to start again. “I guess what I’m trying to ask is, do you feel comfortable here by yourself?”

“Uh,” Zak spoke, “what do you mean?”

“Well, I just know that when I was younger it seemed so… daunting. It sounds silly, but the town rumour has always been that this land is haunted.” A pause. “ There are so many great memories here, but I can’t help but feel put off.” She glanced briefly over her shoulder, swallowing something deep in her throat. “Almost like something is watching me.”

Zak shook his head and laughed, “Rumours are rumours, and at the end of the day it’s just a house.”

“Yes yes,” she nodded quickly, “of course. I didn’t mean any disrespect. Here,” She shifted, passing over the basket. “I best be going now.”

“No disrespect taken,” he replied, taking the basket into his arms with a smile on his face. “There's no reason to worry about me- ghosts aren’t real, I can promise you that.”

Ghosts weren’t real and Zak definitely wasn’t going to try and befriend one.

He walked through a dark hallway, tracing the tips of his fingers against the wall. In his other hand he held a lantern, lighting up the path in front of him in a pale orange hue. He didn’t know what had gotten into him- perhaps it was a mix of his inability to sleep and the debilitating weight of being lonely- but he was about to do exactly what his parents told him _not_ to do.

They had too much faith in him anyways.

“Hello,” he spoke, finding himself standing in front of the same living room from the previous night. He pushed the door open, stepping in cautiously- trying to not scare off the same thing he was seeking. “I just wanna...” he started, entering the room and eyes falling on the grand piano. Empty and silent. 

“Talk.”

He turned off his lantern and placed it on a side table, the moonlight streaming through the large windows illuminated the room enough for him to see, and he knew the harsh light would only scare it off more. He scanned the room, calling out into the silence. “Hello? Anybody there?”

Silence.

Zak slowly looked around the room, a pout forming on his lips. The weight of his athame rested comfortably by his side, a reminder that if he had to use it- he would. This wasn’t the first time he had thrown himself headfirst into situations like this, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last.

He walked over to the piano, the spruce floorboards creaking softly under his weight.. “How do you even play the fucking piano if you’re dead.” He spoke out, settling himself on the bench, voice echoing through the empty room. Opening up the fallboard, he peered down at the ivory keys. “Makes no sense at all. You should probably come and explain it to me.”

He pressed down a key, and a deep hum vibrated throughout the room. “I mean I can’t even play the piano and I’m alive, so I’ll give you that.”. 

Zak squinted at the organ, pressing a few more keys and smiling at the disharmonized sound. “You should teach me how to play, I think that would be fun.” 

In response to the silence he was met with, he continued to slam his fingers obnoxiously against random keys. Disharmonized notes stringings throughout the room as a result of both his boredom and impatience. “I’m starting to get the hang of it, don’t you think?” He hummed, trailing a finger forcefully down the keys.

“No, I don’t think so.” A voice whispered beside him, uneasy and uncertain and barely audible in the night. Zak’s inhaled, heart almost skipping a beat as his entire right side washed over in a cold chill.

“That’s- that’s not very nice,” Zak replied quickly, breath caught in his throat. He exhaled, forcing down the giddy grin from taking over his face. Relaxing his shoulders, he kept his gaze downwards at his hands. He hadn’t really planned what to do after he got the man's attention, so he spoke the next thing that came to his mind. “Could you teach me?”

“What do you want from me?” The voice spoke again, an unearthly sound vibrating off the walls. Zak stilled, turning his head to face the man sitting beside him.

“I just...” He started, his gaze locking into stark white eyes. “I just want to talk to someone.” He settled on, refusing to break eye contact. From under his hood he could see the outline of a frown forming on the ghosts face as he felt it mirror on his own. “I’m lonely.”

“Lonely?” The man tossed the word over slowly, almost as if he was talking to himself. Zak nodded, watching as his gaze trailed off to the large windows. From where Zak sat, he could observe him closer than the previous night. Wisps of pale light cascaded from his eyes, and his cloaked frame was unnaturally translucent. 

Throughout Zak’s lifetime he had multiple encounters with the dead- the perks of being part of a long lasting generation of oculists. Though, the way the man held himself felt different. Instead of being tethered by the weight of grief, or a need to fulfil violence, he seemed… almost calm? Thinking. Zak wondered what was keeping him here, or why he refused to move on. Lost in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the man whisper. “I’m lonely too.”

Zak blinked, at a loss for words.

“Are you here to get rid of me?” The man spoke, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “I suppose it’s for the best. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, it could have been a year or a hundred- it was bound to happen at some point.”

“What? No no no I-“ Zak rushed, getting pulled out of his daze. “No I’m just-.” He signed, running his hands through his hair and pausing. “This is my family’s estate, I’m just watching it for the summer.” 

“I assumed that part already,” the man spoke, turning to face him. Zak swallowed the lump in his throat. “But that doesn’t explain anything- Why aren’t you scared? You should be scared.”

“You assu-“ Zak shook his head, he could get back to that at another time. Huffing out a laugh, he pulled a knee up to his chest. “Dude. As I said- This is my _family's_ manor. It’s rigged with sigils and summoning rooms and I swear half the gnomes outside are actually alive. Why would I be scared of you? What are you gonna do, come up behind me and say boo? I’ve seen worse than you.”

The ghost nodded, rolling it over in his head before setting on a small, “fair.” Zak smiled, and this man opened his mouth again. “So you aren’t here to… get rid of me?”

“No way in hell,” Zak declared, nodding behind them towards the half open door. “Everyone else I talk to has a stick up their ass. You’re the only, uh- person, who hasn’t completely pissed me off already. So whaddya say? You want to be friends?”

The ghost sighed, shaking his head. “No. We can’t be friends.”

Zak blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, why not?

The man sat up straighter, his expression hardening as he spoke to the younger man. “We can’t be friends. I don’t want you to come back here.”

“Okay,” Zak, raised his hands, backing off. “Okay we’re not friends. Can you please just play me a song? I’ll leave right after, I promise.”

Silence. 

“Okay. One song.”

The man shifted in his seat, scooting closer to Zak. His teeth began to chatter again, but he didn’t dare complain. Clasping his hands in his lap, Zak watched as translucent fingers delicately danced along the keys. The song started slow, softly picking up into a familiar tune that he could have sworn he's heard before. As the man rose to the crescendo, Zak could faintly hear him humming along under his breath. And as he does, he thinks that he hasn’t heard a more beautiful thing.

His parents told him to come prepared. To be wary of angry spirits lurking the forgotten halls. That the house was always awake and watching, and to not be caught off guard. But no salt bags and protection sachets could have prepared him for this.

Zak listens as the hypnotizing melody comes to a close. And when the song ends, he looks up, finding himself alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeeeeeeee hope u all enjoyed <3
> 
> Sidenote: An athame is a ceremonial blade/ritual knife! Practitioners keep them on them to aid with whatever spiritual work theyre doing... in this case for protection when trying to befriend ghosts >:D
> 
> Comments & feedback appreciated :D thank you for reading guys! <33

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed T_T 
> 
> I'm really excited to finish this :))) open to feedback!!! :D
> 
> This can be read as both gen/romantic btw! Up to you guys how you want to interpret it. (Happytwt if ur reading this dont cancel me PLS <3_<3)


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